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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644971">Can I Borrow Your Headphones?</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardwood_Studios/pseuds/Hardwood_Studios'>Hardwood_Studios</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aged-Up Character(s), Canon Compliant, Dirty Talk, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Canon, Sex Toys, True Love</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-02-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 20:47:24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>14,981</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29644971</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hardwood_Studios/pseuds/Hardwood_Studios</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I said...” Hinata lifts his head, his expression wobbly but determined. “It’s not the only way! Ah, you’re such an idiot! You didn’t even - do you know who I think about when I...I do that stuff?! When I...” He wrings his hands together and huffs a nervous breath. “When I touch myself like that, I...you’re the one I think of! I’ve been in love with you for...forever, I guess! There! I said it! I love you, and I want you to touch me, and...do that stuff! To me...” He trails off awkwardly. It’s as eloquent a confession as Hinata can give, he just never expected to give one under these circumstances; those being, habitually masturbating to his best friend, getting caught by said best friend who then recorded said masturbation and proceeded to watch said recording and masturbate to it in secret, and said secret coming to light via a Bluetooth pairing mishap. </p>
<p>Now that he really thought about it, what the fuck is even going on?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>159</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Can I Borrow Your Headphones?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Finally got around to posting this! As always, my usual disclaimer: there is little to no plot here. Just two really horny volleyball players/best friends fantasizing about each other, then, you know, doing it. I just need an outlet, to be honest, and when I feel like writing but don't feel like being clever, mindless porn comes easy. I love these two, and plan to write more in the future. Also, two other things: I originally started writing this in past tense, and only switched over to present tense towards the end, which I prefer, so I decided to go back through and edit all the past tense words into present. Apologies if I missed any and it reads choppy. Also, I'm currently on an original work, a male/male romance fiction, that I hope to publish sometime soon. Starting off from my roots, you know? If anyone wants to hear more about that, let me know.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In recent months, Hinata has developed a somewhat elaborate routine. He’s in his first year of university, and thus, constantly horny as most healthy, single people in his age group tend to be. Volleyball is still his absolute passion, but as loathed as he is to admit it, his body craves something more than flying and spiking. His celibacy is made all the more bitter by the fact he shares a living space with the object of his undisclosed affections, and irritations, as well as several classes. He and Kageyama have been inseparable since their first year at Karasuno; they’d chosen to attend the same university and continue to play volleyball together, so it only made sense to save money by bunking with someone they were already familiar and comfortable with. All well and good, except Hinata is tragically in love with the bastard, and even more tragic, in the grips of a wily lust that never loses its edge. Hinata can never seem to catch a break from his presence for more than an hour or two, unless he leaves their shared apartment to visit other friends or family, which always makes Kageyama antsy and irritable. He knows the in’s and out’s of all his routines, even those of the most benign variety, from how he takes his eggs sunny side up with a slice of burnt toast to his preferred circular motions when brushing his stupid, perfect teeth. </p>
<p>It’s insufferable. Hinata finds himself constantly stifling lewd sounds of want at the most mundane behaviors from Kageyama. Swallowing a mouthful of Oolong that’d sat for too long and gone cold, flipping through pages of his secondhand textbook with bone-weary sighs hot from his mouth, whipping the towel through his hair after a shower until the strands stand at funny angles, but worst of all, when they play or practice together. By some miracle, Hinata manages to keep enough of a head on his shoulders to make good plays and score points for their team during matches, but Kageyama on the court is a force of pure fucking nature that keeps him breathless and hungry. Hinata has always felt on top of the world when spiking a ball that Kageyama sets for him, but now more than ever, it made his heart rip a staccato and his blood drain south. God, and the touching. Kageyama has been touching him so much lately. Just platonic ribbing and casual contact, but much more than he used to; brushing shoulders during a cheesy B-movie, dragging his knuckles across the back of his neck when squeezing by him in their cramped kitchenette, and the fucking stretching. They've been helping each other stretch before and after matches and games, Kageyama's idea, and Hinata hates how it makes him feel. Kageyama's hands on him, contorting him, bearing down, massaging the knots from his sore muscles; it’s all a cruel reminder of how much talent he keeps in those hands and Hinata almost literally has to punch himself in the groin to keep from getting hard.</p>
<p>So, Hinata developed a routine. This semester, Kageyama hsd an evening class on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays from five to six-thirty. Hinata's last class is over at five, and it’s a fifteen minute commute from school grounds to their apartment. Thursday also happens to be their laundry day, which Hinata is responsible for. Everything lines up perfectly for him. He snags one of Kageyama's shirts from his laundry bin, preferably one he'd sweated in from practice, and even more preferably his jersey if they've had a recent match. Front door, locked. Living room door, locked. His bedroom door, locked. When Kageyama had asked him once why he locks every damn door in the house, Hinata had simply said it made him feel safer to do so when in the apartment alone. Truthfully, it gives him more time to hide any evidence and make himself look presentable if Kageyama happens to come home earlier than expected. Once lockdown is complete, he draws his blinds and trades the overhead light of his room for the soft, golden glow of his bedside lamp. Finally, stripped to his birthday suit, he wraps himself around the dirty shirt he snagged from Kageyama's room and fires up his laptop. He slides his - well, they're actually Kageyama's - favorite pair of bluetooth, sound-proof headphones snug over his small ears. One might expect him to go Incognito and scour the internet for porn with a Kageyama look-alike, but no, no. He doesn't need porn when he can watch the real deal in action. </p>
<p>Hinata has a vast archive of material saved to his computer, all of it videos of their volleyball career in its progression. If they were ever captured on the court, be it an official match or practice, Hinata has a copy of that footage. He'd originally saved it all to satisfy his love of volleyball and bask in the progress he'd made since starting his career in high school, but it'd since taken on a different manner of satisfying him. Each file is named something innocuous, like "Karasuno vs. Nekoma, practice match, 2018" or "Training Camp, winter 2019", but he has a separate file where he squirrels away the clips of Kageyama, or Kageyama and himself, that turn him on the most. They are titled a bit differently. Without hesitation, he clicks on "Kageyama looked like he wanted to eat me" and patiently waits for the video app to buffer. It is short, a three minute clip. Hinata has gone through and painstakingly trimmed out certain moments from different full-length videos that show Kageyama in the thick of it. His best sets, dumps, spikes. The looks and excitement they'd share when their deviant quick landed a point.</p>
<p>This particular clip was from one of their recent practice matches against a rival university team, Chuo Uni. They were good, really good, and had definitely wiped the court with them in a handful of matches, but this particular match was one they'd won. It was set point for their second set, their chance ball, and Hinata rushed the net at minus tempo as he's want to do. Kageyama served him a flawless set, the ball sliced the air cleanly in two, or so it felt at the time. Hinata knew Chuo was more than familiar with their quick, and he could see their libero at the ready behind their six-foot-plus wall of blockers. In a truly devious and utterly satisfying move, he just barely dinked the ball over the blocker's fingertips. It dropped into their court with an audible thud, almost in slow motion. The libero had dove to receive it, but just missed it by the width of a hair. When his feet smacked the wood of the court, he turned a beaming smile onto Kageyama, and found his setter looking at him with, what looked to Hinata like, pure hunger. He had a big, shark-like smile on his face and it sent shivers racing through him from toe to scalp. Even just watching the clip, Hinata can see his own reaction and remembers it vividly. He had gotten hard in his shorts in literal seconds and had to escape to the locker room, feigning stomach pain.</p>
<p>He'd barricaded himself in a stall and viciously palmed himself to a bitter orgasm through his shorts, biting into the meat of his hand to prevent Kageyama's name from bouncing off the tile like an acoustic nightmare. He would've given his left foot to have Kageyama in that stall with him, sandwiching him against the wall and breathing into his ear -- something like, 'I'm going to fuck you until the only word you can remember is my name.' Or...something. Hinata isn't very creative when trying to imagine dirty talk, and he gets extremely embarrassed at the idea of saying it himself, but he wants Kageyama to say things like that to him. Feeling sufficiently warmed up, his cock now a hot, heavy weight between his legs, he proceeds to phase two of his routine. He leans over the edge of his bed and feels blindly underneath it for what he knows is tucked away there. He retrieves a velvet bag, containing only two items: a timeworn bottle of lube that’s almost empty, and a dildo -- the only one he owned. It isn't very big, as it is the one and only toy Hinata has ever bought for himself, and he knew better than to start with anything labeled 'monster' or 'pussy destroyer'; funny enough, Kenma had actually gone with him to the shop after much begging and pestering. He and Kuroo were already in a relationship, thus Hinata reasoned Kenma had more knowledge about sex and how to go about it properly. Needless to say, it was a mortifying experience and neither of them had spoken about it since, other than Kenma asking him when he planned to make a move on the real Kageyama instead of sneaking about with his sad imitation and fantasies. Hinata gently reminded him to mind his own damn business. </p>
<p>It’s smooth, black, and firm with a little give. It’s about half the length of his forearm, and small enough that he is able to wrap his hand around it with plenty of overlap. Hinata can’t help but compare it to the real thing, despite never seeing it, which was a little amazing given all the years they’d shared a locker room.. He wonders how Kageyama compares, or how much bigger he might be. The thought fills him with equal parts nerves and excitement. Chewing on his bottom lip, he pops the cap of the lube and coats three of his fingers generously. Preparing himself always feels like a chore, and it’s the only part of his routine he rushed through with little to no enjoyment. The angle is always awkward, no matter what position he arranges himself into. Burying his face in Kageyama’s old tee from yesterday’s practice, he lets the smell fill his head as he begins opening himself up. He hisses at the initial burn, and as badly as he wants to pretend it’s Kageyama doing this for him, his imagination isn’t on par with his idealism. Once he feels sufficiently relaxed and ready for more, he spreads the last globs of lube down the length of his toy, going so far as to squeeze the last breath from the little bottle. He’d have to pick up more from the pharmacy down the street, as he’d rather choke on a bowl of udon and die before returning to that sex shop. </p>
<p>He turns himself onto his upper chest and knees - the only position that allots access to his prostate - and presses the spongy head of the toy to his entrance. He buries his face in Kageyama’s shirt and inhales deeply as he slips the toy fully into himself. “Ah! Nngh, Kageya-ah!” He can feel the heat of his face through the thin cotton of the shirt, and the small tears that were beading on his lashes. His mouth, pink and damp, hangs open around gasps and cries of his best friend’s name. Hinata can only imagine how he looks, ass canting into the air and face pressed to the mattress -- like an incorrigible heathen, if he has to guess. It turns him on to feel this way, to look this way. The headphones are hot over his ears, and with the last vestiges of rationale he still clings to, he blindly clicks into a different video. He recognizes it immediately just by the sound. It’s labeled ‘calling for it’ and are spliced clips of himself screaming for Kageyama to send the ball his way. </p>
<p>“Give it to me!”</p>
<p>“Bring it to me!”</p>
<p>“Left!” </p>
<p>“One more!”</p>
<p>“Kageyama!”</p>
<p>He shivers at how raw and passionate he sounds, and though logically he knows it’s in the context of volleyball and calling for a toss, he pretends he was screaming for something else entirely. Demanding for Kageyama to give him more, one more time, over and over. Choking on a gasp, he fucks back onto the toy stuffed into him, wishing more than anything it was Kageyama nestled behind him. The heat where his hips, thighs, and stomach would be pressing against him, his thickness filling him to the point of pain. His strong hands as vices around Hinata’s spasming rib cage, impossible to shake off. He’d pull out slow, and slam back in with a force that would shove Hinata forward and push his face so deep into the bedspread, he’d nearly suffocate. Hinata will never be able to achieve as much on his own, but fuck, he can imagine it. With his mind’s eye full of what-if’s and could-be’s of Kageyama fucking him into tomorrow, he grabs himself where he weeps pre-cum into the sheets. He won’t last long, never can, as his stamina on the court doesn’t follow him into the bedroom. How much stamina does Kageyama have? How many minutes, hours, would Kageyama be able to take him apart and put him back together? </p>
<p>Feeling his orgasm draw near, he changes the angle of the toy and plunges it as deep as it would go into his needy heat. He batters his prostate until it’s surely bruised, until his whole body shakes and his toes cramp up from curling so hard. He hears himself screaming Kageyama’s name through the headset, and can’t take anything more. His orgasm slams into him like it means to kill him, and his senses are temporarily lost to white. He shrieks, and to muffle the sound, bites so deeply into his knuckles as to draw blood. He came with the taste of copper in his mouth and Kageyama’s scent like wool in his head. </p>
<p>Utterly spent, he lets himself sag onto his stomach. He lays there for a long minute, before the headphones start to hurt his ears and the feeling of his cum crusting on his stomach is too uncomfortable to ignore. For his routine to reach its rightful conclusion, he has several more steps to complete before Kageyama returns from his evening class: clean his toy with its accompanying solution and restore it to its rightful home beneath his mattress, shower, discard his empty bottle of lube at the bottom of the trashcan so as not to be seen or asked about, and finally, haul their shared laundry off to the matt next door to their building. Kageyama is usually getting home by the time he’s walking out with the laundry. All’s well that ends well, or so Hinata thinks. </p>
<p>--</p>
<p>Kageyama will never admit to it, but he’s thrilled. His professor had come down with a sudden fever and chills, and they were sent home with a reading list and curt apology for the short notice via email. This particular professor was a bit of a hardass, and it was the first class of his that has been canceled for the whole of the semester so far. He knows Hinata will be home already. They live together, and have several classes together, but Kageyama is excited to see him all the same -- again, not that he’d admit it, even to himself. Perhaps he’d be in the mood to squeeze in some extra practice at the nearby park, which is the likely case, but Kageyama would be just as content to rot together on the couch with some takeout and re-runs of whatever anime Hinata is into lately. Hinata would throw his legs onto Kageyama’s lap, thoughtless and selfish with the space they shared, and Kageyama would massage his calves and pretend it was just a friend doing a friend a favor and not an excuse to put his hands on any part of Hinata’s body in reach. </p>
<p>He snags his house key from his tote, already knowing the front door would be locked, and the door at the end of their foyer. He distantly wonders who or what Hinata feels like he needs protecting from, as he’s horrible about remembering to lock the door any other time they leave the apartment together. Scoffing, he lets himself in without much more thought to it. Hinata’s sneakers are in a sloppy pile by the door, and his tote is abandoned on the sofa. He’s nowhere to be seen, however. Not in the kitchen, not in front of the TV, and not in their shared bathroom. Unless he’s gone out, which Kageyama finds unlikely given Hinata’s proclivity to wearing shoes in public, he must be in his room. Grinning to himself, he sneaks into their shared hall and up to Hinata’s door. He can never pass up the chance to scare the soul out of his roommate; he startles so easily, and his reactions are always worth catching on video. Sliding his phone out of his back pocket, he unlocks it and opens the camera. </p>
<p>His door is barely ajar, and Kageyama can make out the soft glow of his lamp. Is he taking a nap? If so, Kageyama will abandon any premeditated mischief. Hinata never gets enough sleep, he always wants to practice volleyball or binge an anime until the moon is fat and low in the sky, even though he has an early morning class Monday through Friday. He lightly touches the door knob so as not to make any noise, and frowns. Hinata locked it, but must not have latched the door fully. He pushes it open, barely an inch, just enough to peer inside. The vision, and it is a vision, that greets him through the crack nearly knocks him on his ass. His jaw falls, like the muscles there have been cut. Heat lances through him in sharp waves, and settles heavy in his gut. He stuffs his knuckles in his mouth to prevent any noise from getting through his teeth, and before he knows it, he’s fully hard and aching in the confinement of his pants. He’s never gotten so hard, to a point of  pain, so fast, in his entire life. </p>
<p>Hinata’s in bed, but his activities are much more lively than Kageyama had originally guessed. He’s...masturbating--no, no, more than that, so much more. His view from the door leaves little to the imagination, as Hinata’s bed is directly across from said threshold with no furniture obscuring it. His laptop is open, but its back is facing the door, so Kageyama hasn’t the faintest clue what he’s watching or listening to.  He’s stark naked, which Kageyama has never seen him as such before, despite all the years they’ve shared a locker room and living space, and the lamp light makes him look golden and otherworldly. He’s faintly damp with sweat, and the light seems to catch on every bead as they trek over pale planes. Kageyama recognizes his favorite pair of bluetooth headphones nestled between his firebright hair and tight over his ears. His orange mop is just as wild, if not moreso, and some of it clings to his face where it’s pressed to the bed. Oh, fuck, his face. His eyes are pinched shut, brows drawn into a dramatic vee, and a gorgeous flush paints him down to his collar bones. His mouth, Kageyama bites harder into his knuckles, his mouth trembles. He’s trying to stifle himself, but faint gasps and sounds slip through the tight leash he keeps on his voice. Kageyama might not have heard them if he wasn’t straining his ears to do so. He bites his lip fiercely, then his mouth drops open and his tongue, pink and small, snakes out and curls up at the tip. </p>
<p>His face and chest are pressed to the mattress, but his lower body is jacked into the air, held up by trembling thighs and slipping knees. One hand worked feverishly at fucking himself with, what Kageyama can only guess, is a toy. His other hand fists the sheet until it’s a mess of wrinkles between his thin fingers. He has a full, front-row view of the little black handheld slipping through that tight ring of muscle, over and over. Hinata arches his back into the motion, pushing his hips back with every furious thrust. Kageyama snarls quietly and white-knuckles his phone, which he still holds. His eyes widen, and he looks down at the innocuous device. The camera app is still open. A terrible thought comes to him suddenly, and he acts on it before he can remind himself why it’s so terrible. With shaking hands, he switches the camera mode to record. He slides his phone through the crack, just enough so his camera isn’t obscured by the door, and begins recording. Hinata doesn’t disappoint. He keens high in his throat and fucks the small toy so deeply into himself, Kageyama is afraid it will completely slip in and get lost in him. </p>
<p>With his free hand, Kageyama grabs himself tightly through his jeans. His cock hurt -- there had to have been more blood filling his cock than his brain in that moment, surely. It takes every ounce of self control he possessed not to slam Hinata’s door into the wall and replace that stupid toy with himself. He’d give him more pleasure than he’d ever experience alone, he’d reach parts of him that no toy ever could, and make him lose those shackles he’d placed on his voice. He wanted to hear his own name, loud and desperate, from that perfect mouth. He knew what it sounded like when Hinata screamed his name, but only on the court, only when calling for a toss. He wanted to hear it differently, he wanted to hear it broken and pitchy. </p>
<p>“Ah! Nngh, fu-!” Hinata whines high in his throat, as he changes the angle of insertion. He twitches and jerks, like he’s oversensitized, but doesn’t stop. Kageyama can feel his pulse hammering in both his temple and groin. He’s sweating, and he can feel his phone slipping between his fingers. He keeps a death grip on it. He watches with bated breath as Hinata snakes his free hand between his legs, and begins working himself over like it might be the last orgasm he ever lives to see. He’s close, Kageyama can tell, as his movements become more erratic and his noises less muffled. When he finally does cum, it’s a sight Kageyama knows will be burned into his brain until the day he dies. He stuffs himself full with the little toy, his back curling into a delicious bow. He shoves his fist between his teeth and screams, the force of it visibly overwhelming him. He shakes and shivers through it, tears streaming like crystal ribbons down his ruddy face, and it must have lasted a full twenty seconds. </p>
<p>For the first time in his young life, Kageyama comes in his pants, completely untouched other than the painful grip he keeps on himself through his clothes. He doesn’t have the time or energy to feel embarrassed about it, because now Hinata is done, and the absolute last thing he wants is to be caught red handed filming and getting off to his best friend’s extremely private moment. Catching his breath, he slides his phone into his back pocket and retraces his steps as quietly as humanly possible. Hinata still has the headphones on, and even if nothing is playing, they still block out most sound. He makes sure there are no traces of his presence, he keeps his shoes on and his tote slung over his shoulder. He creeps back into the foyer, and locks the door behind him in case Hinata decides to come check it. As quickly as he can, he strips his pants and underwear off, wipes himself down with the dry parts of his clothing, and changes into the spare set of gym shorts he keeps in his tote. Natural, he has to act natural. Hinata can never know. He presses his ear to the foyer door, listening for signs of movement.</p>
<p>Sure enough, he hears Hinata leave his room and walk into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He feels it’s safe enough to make his entrance, and makes sure to slam the door behind him so Hinata will hear it. “Oi! Hinata!” He calls loudly, struggling to sound normal. He clears his throat once, then twice. Hinata shouts back through the bathroom door. He sounds surprised, and something else Kageyama can’t place. “Ah! Bakageyama, you’re home already?” </p>
<p>“Yeah, the professor started feeling ill and sent us home with a reading list halfway through.” Okay, not a total lie. </p>
<p>“Okay! I’m going to shower and run the laundry out.” </p>
<p>“What are we doing for dinner?” Yes, good, normal talk, things roommates are supposed to talk about. Class, showers, laundry, dinner, how good it would feel to fuck you wet and open into the tile with the water running--Kageyama chokes on his own spit. Fuck, not good, he needs to get a grip, fast. He wraps his fingers tight around his phone, feeling suddenly crazy with the urge to hide in his room and watch the video. He’s hard again just thinking about it, thinking about Hinata in general.  </p>
<p>“Uh, we’ve got leftover curry and onigiri in the fridge?” He replies absentmindedly, somewhat muffled through the door. Kageyama hears him start the shower, and the conversation is blessedly paused for the time being. Kageyama retreats to his room, and dispenses his soiled pants and undergarments into his hamper. Hinata hasn’t collected it yet, so he makes sure to stuff it at the very bottom of the basket, beneath his other non-cum-stained clothes. He stands there, idle, not knowing what to do with himself or how to proceed. He looks at his phone hatefully, like it has personally wronged him, then tosses it onto his bed. He feels guilty, but more than that, he feels insatiable and aroused. Whether he wants to admit or not, he already has strong feelings for Hinata that go far beyond platonic friendship. He has so much life and personality, he never knows a stranger and caan make friends with a brick wall if he tries. Kageyama has never met another person who shares his profound passion for volleyball, nor anyone who thrills him to his bones on the court like Hinata does. He’s someone that keeps the crowd’s rapt attention, you just can’t look away from him when in play. Kageyama finds he can’t look away, period. Standing beside Hinata feels like standing under the sun. </p>
<p>He’s gorgeous, in everything he does, whether it be flying over the heads’ of blockers and slamming a ball into an opposing court or tripping on the stairs. Kageyama wants him, all of him, all the time. He wants to touch him, take him apart, lay claim like they’re animals or warlords. Though he feels he’s done a decent job at keeping himself in check, stealing small touches here and there when a situation permits, he doesn’t know how he’ll handle himself going forward, after bearing witness to what he did. How was he supposed to refrain from touching, after seeing with his own eyes what Hinata looks like when touched? Seeing the look on his face when feeling pleasure, when coming apart under the hammer hit of an orgasm? The way his spine curls and his inner thighs tremble as he’s filled up? Kageyama takes a deep breath. His fingers flex at his side. Well, he’ll just have to do his best. </p>
<p>-- </p>
<p>As it turns out, his “best” would barely be considered a passing grade if this were a test. A full week has gone by since the incident, and it was possibly the longest and most stressful week he’d ever endured. Hinata acted like his usual, vibrant self, and why wouldn’t he? He was none the wiser of Kageyama’s massive invasion of his privacy. They attended their classes, played volleyball, and spent most of their free time together like usual, except Kageyama was not soothed by the veil of normalcy. No, if anything, he was tortured by it. Spending so much unchecked time around Hinata was already challenging before the aforementioned incident, but now, it was a true test of his limits and control. </p>
<p>His smell, his smile, his laugh, his athleticism, his perfect ass--Kageyama groans, and drags a hand down the length of his face. He’s taken a lot more liberties with Hinata this week, more than he meant to. He found himself constantly scrambling for an excuse to touch him, if even for just a scant few seconds. He’d grab him by the hips as he shuffled behind him in their tiny kitchenette, or squeeze the back of his neck after they managed a successful quick in practice. He drew out their stretching sessions before and after practice as long as he could, reminding Hinata he’d be more nimble on the court if Kageyama helped him release the tension in his hamstrings. Needless to say, he watches the video every night since he initially recorded it, sometimes two or three times a day. It’s only two minutes long, but it’s almost developed into an addiction. He jerks off any chance he gets, and can’t last more than five minutes with Hinata coming apart on his screen, breathless and needy in his ears. </p>
<p>His patience is wearing particularly thin this evening. It’s Thursday night the following week and he’s in class. Kageyama reached the conclusion earlier in the week that Hinata’s “private time” isn’t just a one-off. He must do the same thing every week, on nights he knows Kageyama won’t be home until late. He can’t be sure if Hinata performs the same rituals thrice a week, Tuesday through Thursday, or if he only did it on Thursdays. The doors are always locked when he comes home, and he wonders if Hinata is just trying to keep up some form of consistency so as not to make Kageyama suspicious, or if he really does go through such an elaborate routine three nights out of the week. In any case, it’s Thursday night. Kageyama now knows how Hinata spends his alone time, and it’s literally killing him to be here and not there, as a witness at the very least. However, he doesn't know what he’d do or how he’d react if he were to catch Hinata in the act a second time. Most likely, whatever shreds of restraint he still possesses would fizzle away in the fires of lust and he really would kick his door through the opposite wall. He doesn’t think he’ll be able to see Hinata like that again, in the flesh, without taking some form of action. </p>
<p>When his professor finally deigns to dismiss them from his miserably laborious lecture, Kageyama all but runs to the station to catch the next train, a total of five minute’s wait on the platform. He grits his teeth and taps his foot to an impatient staccato, garnering looks of irritation from his fellow passengers. Logically, he knows he won’t be catching Hinata in the middle of anything; Hinata is familiar with his schedule and knows what time to expect him home, and he usually catches him leaving with the laundry tote upon his arrival. Still, he wants to see him. His shocks of vibrant hair, still damp and a little floppy from the shower. His smiling eyes, like churned honey, that always light up when they see him, like Kageyama is something to look forward to. He wants to look at Hinata and know exactly what he's been up to mere minutes before. </p>
<p>Somehow, it happens just as Kageyama imagined it. As he rifles through his tote for his house key, Hinata bursts through their front door with the laundry bag over his shoulder. Freshly showered, he beams what must’ve been the world’s brightest smile when he sees Kageyama idling in the hall. “Ka-ge-ya-maaahh!” He sings. “How was class?” </p>
<p>Kageyama scoffs. He can feel heat blooming in his cheeks, and tries to physically smudge it away by scrubbing his hands over his face. “You know I hate that class. An hour and a half of my life, three days a week, wasted.” </p>
<p>Hinata snickers. “It really is a waste, we could use that time to practice!” </p>
<p>Practice? Kageyama from two or three years ago would have agreed, but Kageyama of the present has a different agenda. “Hm.” He grunts, noncommittal. “Laundry day already, huh?” He asks with a faint smirk. Hinata sputters and fumbles with his words, a delicate flush crawling up the column of his neck. He quickly rights himself, looking suddenly indignant. “O-of course! Every Thursday, or is your memory fading in your old age, Bakageyama?” He sticks his tongue out, petulant, and beats a hasty retreat down the hall from which Kageyama just came. He should be back within the hour, if nothing keeps him. Kageyama watches him slip around the corner, standing there long enough that his presence turns into a memory. Grinding his teeth nearly flat, he lets himself into their apartment. He’s decided to himself, an investigation is more than warranted. </p>
<p>He leaves his shoes in a neat pair at the edge of the foyer, drops his tote on his bed, and changes into a pair of sweats and a clean tee. Then, with little fanfare, he lets himself into Hinata’s room. Nothing is immediately out of place. His bed is a bit messy, but that’s standard. Hinata never makes his bed. However, now that Kageyama is actively snooping, he realizes Hinata has a different bedspread than he did this morning. He grins, and it’s probably more menacing and knife-like than he realizes. He spots his laptop sitting on his desk, and figures it to be as good a place as any to start. He ambles over and cracks it open; it’s still powered on, but Hinata has signed himself off. It’ s password protected. Kageyama scoffs. He types in ‘volleyballrox#10’ -- viola, access granted. Five years, and his password is still the same. He rolls his eyes fondly. He opens the web browser and immediately checks the history, and is disappointed to find nothing of interest. All the recent links are either related to volleyball or his coursework. Hinata is surely smart enough to use Incognito. </p>
<p>His mouth tightens in thought. Maybe he saves his porn directly to his drive? It’s worth a look. He exits the browser and clicks into Hinata's drive. He scours through his folders, and is again disappointed to find most of it are essays and research he's saved for class. After another minute or two of, seemingly fruitless, searching, another folder catches his eye. It’s labeled 'volleyball progress!'; well, consider his interest piqued. Kageyama clicks into it, and it’s full of nothing but video files, some of them as long as an hour. Christ, how many gigs does Hinata have on this thing? </p>
<p>He scrolls through, and is genuinely floored to find Hinata somehow has a copy of every single game and practice they've ever played, from their first year at Karasuno to their official match against Chuo from three weeks ago, or at least those caught on film. How...? Well, the kid is obsessed. Like, obsessed. At the very bottom of the long list of footage, there’s another folder. It’s named, simply, 'k'. Kageyama tries clicking into it, and is startled to find a password is required to do so. He blinks, then shrugs. It’s surely the same as his computer login. Hinata is kind of a dimwit when it comes to protecting himself online, and uses the same password for everything. Kageyama has, of course, tried to convince him of how stupid and dangerous it is to use the same credentials for every website and app. He types in 'volleyballrox#10' and is fully expecting the folder to pop open and spill its guts to him. He’s not-so-pleasantly surprised to find that not to be the case. Hinata has actually used a different password for this one, specific folder. What the fuck...? What could he possibly have saved in there? He licks his lips, and the hairs on the back of his neck stand at attention. He absolutely has to know. He racks his brain for what it might be.</p>
<p>'tinygiant' incorrect password</p>
<p>'tinygiant10' incorrect password</p>
<p>'tinygiant#10' incorrect password</p>
<p>'karasuno#10' incorrect password</p>
<p>'karasunorox' incorrect password</p>
<p>'fly' incorrect password</p>
<p>'fly10' incorrect password</p>
<p>'volleyball#10' incorrect password</p>
<p>Kageyama slams his hands on the desk, his palms sting with the impact of it. Hinata is supposed to be more predictable than this. What could it be? Snarling, he rips his phone out of his pocket and checks the time. He's already wasted thirty minutes, Hinata is due back in half an hour. He'd have to give up on this particular venture for now. He closes out of the drive and signs off. He shuts the laptop with a soft snick and arranges it back into its previous position, at a slight angle from the corner of the desk. He turns back to face the room, and runs his eyes from corner to corner. Where would Hinata hide a sex toy? They’re chronically broke college students, so secret vaults and hidden drawers are out of the question. He stalks about the room and performs some proper snooping, rifling through his bedside and desk drawers, lifting the mattress at each corner. He picks through his closet, but it’s sparse, home only to his clothing, shoes, and gym bag. Kageyama clenches his teeth and checks the time again. He’s left with barely fifteen minutes. </p>
<p>His search turns frantic. He looks around the room wildly, feeling delirious in his need to unearth Hinata’s secrets. Was it his only toy? Did he have more? Has Hinata been some covert, carnal being of kink and elaborate pleasure right under his nose, all this time? He has to know, it’s literally killing him not to know. His eyes, fever bright and thin at the edges, land on Hinata’s bed. He suddenly feels foolish, as it finally occurred to him, he hasn’t bothered to look underneath it. He drops to his hands and knees, and peers under the frame. As he’s learned from living with Hinata over the past year, he’s a surprisingly neat and organized person who dislikes clutter. There’s nothing under his bed, no empty water bottles or forgotten assignments, except...Kageyama grins viciously, feeling victorious. He snatchs at the inscrutable item with shaking hands. It’s a small, black velvet bag. With fingers trembling in excitement, he tugs at the golden drawstring. Inside, his prize. </p>
<p>The very toy he’d watched Hinata use, alongside a single bottle of lubricant. He pulls the dildo from its crushed velvet home and scrutinizes it, as though it’s his competition. In a way, it is. This molded piece of plastic has given Hinata pleasure that he’s yet to give. It’s clean and dry, Hinata clearly takes time to care for it after each use. He scowls. It’s small. Is this really the only toy Hinata owns? He turns it over in his hand and scoffs. He’s at least four inches longer, and much thicker. If this is all Hinata is used to, Kageyama would have to take great care in opening him up. Three fingers, no, four at least. He groans aloud. He’s getting hard just thinking about it. No good, Hinata will be back any minute now and demand help with folding the laundry. He sets to righting the room and replacing the toy in its bag, and back under the bed. He glares at the visible tent in his pants. A cold shower is in order.</p>
<p>-- </p>
<p>Hinata whines, long and loud, into the receiver. “Kenmaaaa, you don’t understand!”</p>
<p>His friend sighes through the phone. “I don’t actually, no. I’m not lurking around every corner to watch how the two of you interact. I only know what you’ve told me, and it sounds a lot like you’re overreacting, which you usually do.” </p>
<p>Hinata puffs his cheeks out, stuffing their clean laundry into the oversized tote with more aggression than is warranted. The phone is clutched precariously between his ear and shoulder. “I’m not overreacting! I’m telling you, he’s been extra weird this week. He’s been avoiding me, and when he’s not avoiding me, it feels like he’s constantly touching me.”</p>
<p>“Touching you how? And how is he avoiding you, isn’t that kind of impossible? You have three classes together, practice most days out of the week, and you live together.” </p>
<p>“Well, he - I don’t know! He won’t really look at me, like, in the eye. Or if I try to talk to him or ask him something, he kind of just mumbles and ignores me. Or he only says a few words. We haven’t really watched TV together at all this week, he just holes up in his room as soon as we get back from class or practice.”</p>
<p>“And the touching?” </p>
<p>“Just, little things, I guess. When we’re sitting in class, our knees will kind of bump, and he won’t move his leg away. Or, he’ll put both hands on my hips if he’s trying to get by me to go the bathroom or get to the fridge. And-and the stretching! I’m telling you, we didn’t used to spend so much time stretching after practice, but it feels like he’s deliberately trying to torture me by touching me as much as possible when we stretch. Do...” Hinata swallows nervously. “...do you think he knows? Do you think he’s trying to-to make fun of me or...make me embarrassed or something?!” </p>
<p>Kenma sighs deeply, Hinata almost feels it washing over his face through the phone. “Okay, I have an idea.”</p>
<p>“You do?!”</p>
<p>“Yes.” </p>
<p>Hinata waits, holding his breath until it feels like his lungs might pop. After a long stretch of silence, he explodes. “Well?! What is it?! What’s your idea?” </p>
<p>“Talk to him.”</p>
<p>Hinata scowls. “That’s a terrible idea. Damnit, Kenma, I thought you were taking this seriously!”</p>
<p>“I am taking this seriously, and it sounds to me like you’re giving each other the run around. Nothing's ever going to get resolved until one of you decides to be the bigger person and actually talk about how you feel. I know you’re scared, but Kageyama doesn’t sound like he’s unaffected by you either.”</p>
<p>“He...he doesn’t? What do you mean, ‘not unaffected’?” </p>
<p>“Obviously I don’t know him like you do, but it sounds like he might be working through some feelings of his own. You’ll never know if you don’t just ask him about it directly.” </p>
<p>Hinata tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, chewing at it nervously. He’s jittery with nerves and excitement, but also dread and anxiety. Kenma is very emotionally intelligent when it comes to the people around him and deciphering their thoughts and feelings; he can usually predict what Hinata is going to say before he even picks up his call, though that might be because Hinata always calls about the same thing. In regards to his own relationship, Kenma had been the one to sit Kuroo down and call him out on his erratic behavior and pussyfootery. Hinata wonders why he couldn’t be more confident and discerning like his friend. He’s just...scared, really scared. What if Kenma is wrong? What if Kageyama is acting out for a different reason? </p>
<p>“I...yeah, maybe. I guess I should...try that.” He squeaks. His heart is in his throat and his stomach churns uneasily. His knuckles are as white as new linen from where he strangles the life out of the laundry bag. </p>
<p>“Good, don’t call me again until the two of you’ve worked out at least four years of pent up sexual aggression.” Dial tone. Hinata groans loudly. Talk to him? Just open his mouth and...and what? Tell him how he feels? How does he even feel? Horny as fuck, for one. Underneath that, however, Hinata couldn’t deny he felt far more for Kageyama than just lust or a desire to be physically intimate with him. Kageyama is someone who Hinata never tires of, someone who makes his heart race and a smile break across his face at the mere thought of him. They’re competitive with each other in everything they do, not just volleyball, and Hinata believes Kageyama to be a driving force in making him want to be better, as a spiker and an overall person. He wants to beat him, but he also wants Kageyama to be just as proud of him and excited by him. He cherished each and every moment they spent together, and never wanted a day to come where they parted for separate ways. </p>
<p>Oh, God, was this love? Is this what love feels like? Hinata keels over and buries his head in his knees, not caring that he’s having a dramatic, life-changing epiphany in front of his local laundromat. His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and as lost in thought as he is, it’s like an AED bringing him back from the brink of death via cardiac failure. He snatches it out of his pocket, and feels his heart smack wildly against his ribs.</p>
<p>From: Bakageyama<br/>Received: 8:32pm</p>
<p>where the fuck are you?? I made dinner, idiot.</p>
<p>Hinata types a hasty reply, fingers slipping across the screen. </p>
<p>To: Bakageyama<br/>Sent: 8:33pm</p>
<p>otw up!! was talking to Kenma otp and got distracted, srry</p>
<p>He takes a deep breath, filling his lungs to capacity with the chilly, nighttime air. He straightens himself, physically and mentally, and begins the trek back to their fifth-floor apartment. The elevator ride up is nervewracking. As the numbers indicative of each floor light up one behind another, Hinata feels like he’s watching a five-count to his imminent doom. The elevator comes to a clanky stop, and the doors part. He takes another deep breath, and smooths out the wrinkles from his sweater just to give his fidgety hands something to do. He strolls into their apartment, the epitome of calm and casual, or so he hopes. Kageyama is stretched across their small, hand-me down couch, a half-empty rice bowl in his lap and chopsticks perched half-heartedly between his long fingers. His hair is damp from a recent shower, and he looks comfortable and relaxed in a pair of gray sweats and a loose, long-sleeve tee that dipped below his collar bones. Hinata swallows, hard. He sees his own rice bowl cooling on the coffee table. Kageyama pokes his chopsticks in the air, like he’s pretending to jab Hinata in the eyes. “Oi, took you long enough.”  </p>
<p>Hinata huffs, feeling a bit of normalcy restored to the room. He lets the laundry tote drop at his feet, and kicks his shoes into a messy pile by the foyer door. Kageyama sucks his teeth, wanting to say something about the bad habit, but refrains. “Fear not, Bakageyama, I will take the high road here and say, thank you for dinner!” He bounds from door to couch, and takes his rightful spot amongst the cushions. He curls his legs under him and snaps his chopsticks apart with an enthusiastic “itadakimasu!” </p>
<p>They eat in relative peace, exchanging small talk and banter while a game show drones in the background. Unsurprisingly, though Kageyama started eating before him, Hinata is the first to finish. He always makes sure to leave a clean bowl, not one grain of rice or bean sprout left behind. Hinata eats like he’ll never eat again, and Kageyama had always chalked it up to the vast amounts of energy he burns through day and night. Depending on how much they’ve ordered or Kageyama cooks, Hinata could polish off two or three servings without batting an eye, and something about that stirs up a nest of butterflies in Kageyama’s stomach. Something primal, if Kageyama had to guess, like he’s proud to be a good provider or that Hinata deems his home-cooked meals worthy of mass consumption.  </p>
<p>“You’re not done yet?! Geez, you’re such a slow eater, you started before me!”</p>
<p>Kageyama rolls his eyes, and offers his less-than-quarter of a portion to Hinata. Hinata beams at him, and snatches the bowl from his outstretched hand. He gobbles it up in less than twenty seconds, if Kageyama was counting, which he isn’t, definitely not. “Ah, I love when you cook! You make the best spicy curry!” He gushes. Kageyama doesn’t know what he’d say if he opens his mouth, so he just hums. He can feel heat crawling up his neck and into his cheeks, and he prays to any God available that Hinata doesn’t notice. Fortunately, Hinata has the world’s worst situational awareness when a volleyball isn't around. He does nothing more than leave the couch and bring their dishes to the sink, where he proceeds to wash them. Kageyama watches him from the corner of his eye, struggling to be subtle.  </p>
<p>Hinata is smiling to himself, humming a nonsense tune under his breath that Kageyama can barely hear over the television. He pushes his sleeves to his elbows, and his forearms look creamy and delicate in the ugly, fluorescent light. His veins, thin and blue, are barely visible from his vantage point on the couch, but Kageyama traces their path from wrist to rolled-up-cuff all the same. His heart stutters and skips, and, for fuck’s sake, his cock thickens in his sweats. Something as simple as watching Hinata scrub a stupid bowl, and do so happily, like scrubbing bowls were his life’s fucking purpose, has blood draining into his lower body faster than one might drain from a split jugular. What would Hinata do, how would he react, if Kageyama pinned him to the counter, his small back hot to Kageyama’s chest? If Kageyama pressed his mouth to the underside of his jaw, and said, “don’t stop, finish these dishes while I fuck you stupid against the sink”? </p>
<p>“Fuck.” He hisses, low enough for Hinata not to hear it past the rush of water. </p>
<p>He stands suddenly. “I’m going to my room, I have an econ paper I need to finish before Monday.” He spits out. It isn’t a lie, but the last thing on his mind is sitting down to type out ten thousand plus words of half-hearted drivel on Japan’s economic revitalization since the asset-price bubble burst in the late 90’s. Hinata calls out to him, and he feels his heart plummet into his guts to be consumed by gastric acid. “Oi! I have to study for an exam tomorrow, do you mind if I borrow your headphones?” </p>
<p>Kageyama swallows up the words, lavacious and heavy, pressing into his soft palate. Instead, he simply says, “don’t you already have them?” </p>
<p>Hinata blushes, and his skin shines brightly under the fluorescents, like embers from a fire or Christmas lights. “I-I, um, yeah? Sorry, I know I should’ve asked, but -- !”</p>
<p>“You know I don’t mind, you don’t have to ask. Borrow them whenever you need to.” </p>
<p>Hinata stammers out a squeaky “th-thanks!” </p>
<p>Kageyama basks in his embarrassment for a short moment, before the unmentionable context overwhelms him. He can’t stay in the same room as Hinata, he can’t bear it. His hands, his feet, his mouth, they all have minds of their own, and but one human tangerine that beckons their sordid attention. He can barely control himself as is, and lately, putting four walls between himself and Hinata is all he can do to keep from acting out. He locks himself in his room, and presses his back to the door. He slides down, until his ass hits the floor and his head hangs like a stone on a string between his knees. He breathes heavily, almost hyperventilating. His cock is full and impossible to ignore where it throbs between his legs. He shoves his hand down the front of his pants and squeezes, hard, almost trying to punish himself. He’s going insane, this is literal torture. He throws his head back against the solid wood, and clenches his teeth against the angry, frustrated scream clawing at his gullet. </p>
<p>Something had to give. He couldn’t keep going like this. The video isn’t enough anymore. But, at the same time, moving out is unthinkable. Even if he moves out, they still play on the same volleyball team. While coexisting with Hinata, keeping all his feelings and urges under lock and key, is utterly miserable, the idea of living apart from him, having bear minimum contact between classes and the court, is just as unbearable. It twists his insides and puts a bad taste in his mouth. He’a shaking, he realizes. He looks at his hands, faintly damp with sweat and fingers trembling like an addict’s would. Hinata is right there, through the door, barely fifteen paces away. When he closes his eyes, he sees a thousand versions of him, flipping through his mind’s eye like a powerpoint with bad transitions. </p>
<p>He sees him rushing the net, pushing off the court into a perfect broad jump, smashing his toss into the enemy’s court, that expression of ultimate focus that strikes fear and awe into the heart’s of teammates and opposition alike. He sees him slurping a bowl of noodles, his face pink with pleasure and eyes soft around the edges, broth snaking down his pale chin and neck, staining the collar of his shirt. He sees him through the crack of his bedroom door, lit only by his bedside lamp, fucking himself silly and coming apart with mouth wide around silent screams and eyes brimming with sweet tears. Kageyama stuffs his knuckles between his teeth and groans, his hips jerking into the tight pocket of his cinched fist. He can’t take it, he has to watch it again. It’s all he can do to eject some of this insanity from his soul. He stands on shaky legs and stumbles to his bed. He rips his phone off of it’s charger, and unlocks it. Unbeknownst to him, he’s just knocked over the first domino.</p>
<p>Hinata, who idles in the living room, would be the last domino to fall. He grinds his bottom lip between his teeth, hovering in front of Kageyama’s bedroom door. He heard a slight thump moments ago, but now it’s silent as a grave. By the time he started on the dishes, he’d bolstered his confidence and was intent on trying to talk to Kageyama about...well, his feelings? His raging hard-on? Whatever embarrassing, mashed-up speech he was sure to give, Hinata was willing to let it happen, to finally clear the air a bit, at least on his side of the fence. However, Kageyama is being weird again. He’d leapt from the couch so suddenly, Hinata almost thought he was in pain or had forgotten something of monumental importance. Then he says he has a paper due Monday?  Weird, definitely weird. Is Kageyama hiding something from him? A thought suddenly occurs, and Hinata feels like his heart is tied up with strings, prepped for skewering and a slow roast over open flame. </p>
<p>What if...what if Kageyama is seeing someone? Like...a secret girlfriend? It would explain why he’s been so awkward and taciturn, squirreling away in his room as soon as they’d finished a meal. Is he texting someone, or talking on the phone? Hinata, as careful and quiet as his graceless nature would allow, presses his ear to the wood of his door, but hears nothing. Oh, God, what would he do if that was the case? How would he handle it? He pulls back, and clasps his hands in front of his chest. He squeezes his wrist, rubbing the delicate bones together. Utterly miserable, he considers this a failed venture and retreats to his own room. He no longer has the presence of mind to study; he’ll have to occupy his mind with something else, maybe reruns of Gundam. </p>
<p>He collapses into a sad heap on his bed, face first. It’s hard to breathe, and he wonders, if he lays here long enough, would he smother to death? It sounds pleasant, what a nice way to go. Ugh, he never thought he’d be so melodramatic and depressed over...over...”Gah!” He flails his limbs wildly, in all directions. He can’t even think that terrible, cursed word, the one to start with that awful, ugly letter -- ‘L’! Even to himself, he sounds like the main character in a shoujo manga. He drags his face through the comforter, and takes a shaky breath. His eyes land on Kageyama’s bluetooth headphones, and he remembers their earlier exchange in the living room. Kageyama had sounded, almost, smug. ‘Don’t you already have them?’ </p>
<p>Hinata feels a flush spread across his face and into the roots of his hair. “Bakageyama...” He mutters, sounding childish to his own ears, before snapping the headphones up and planting them over his ears. He flips onto his back and unlocks his phone. He halfheartedly clicks into an old episode of Gundam, one he’s seen at least a hundred times. The sounds of automaton violence blares through the ear muffs for all of fifteen seconds before it disconnects, which was not unusual. If Kageyama is nearby and using his own devices, the headphones will often unpair from Hinata’s phone in lieu of connecting with Kageyama’s. He has a pair of bluetooth earbuds he uses whenever Hinata is holding the favored pair hostage, which is most of the time. He is usually watching recaps of recent tournaments, highlight reels of their opponents, or music videos. Except, this time...</p>
<p>Hinata frowns, and sits upright in bed. Whatever Kageyama is watching, it’s quiet. Hinata hears faint rustling, and...gasping? Moaning? A shiver runs through him, from the tips of his toes to the top of his ears. Is Kageyama watching porn?! Hinata squeaks, before slapping a hand over his mouth. He’s shocked, he’s definitely aroused, he’s - </p>
<p>“Ah! Nngh, fu-!”</p>
<p>Then, the audio stops, and Kageyama’s phone disconnects from the headset with a prompt, disconcerting tinkling noise. Hinata sits there, frozen to the bone. That was...that was his voice. His eyes blow wide, nearly bugging from their sockets, and his mouth hangs loose and open. How...? Why? Why did he just hear himself moaning and gasping through this headset? Why did Kageyama have it on his phone? He feels lightheaded and nauseous, the implications are too much for his fried brain to process. Kageyama must have come home early and caught him in the act sometime in the past week, but how? When? Why did he record it? It must be the reason for Kageyama’s sudden discomfort around him, it absolutely has to be. The brief, awkward conversations and avoidance suddenly made sense; he must know what Hinata has been watching, who he’s been getting off to all this time. He must be absolutely disgusted. Hinata grips his chest, strangling the cotton of his shirt, feeling the pounding, ripping beats of his heart. He’s hyperventilating, he realizes. </p>
<p>His bedroom door bursts open and smacks the wall with a loud bang, causing Hinata to jump nearly a foot in the air. Kageyama stands in his doorway. His phone dangles from his fingers, arm limp at his side, and his face is pale and horrified. They stare at each other for a long stretch, neither knowing what to say. Hinata, at a loss, knowing only that he’d been fucking himself raw to his best friend for the past five month’s without the other’s consent, blurts, pitchy and nervous,“I-I’m sorry!” </p>
<p>Kageyama jolts, as if out of a daze. “I...huh?” He says, dumbfounded. “Why the fuck are you sorry?! I’m...I’m the one who should be...” He grits his teeth and drops his head, unable to look Hinata in the eye. </p>
<p>Hinata blubbers, flailing like a fish left to die on a dock. “I-I mean, th-that was me...on your...right?” </p>
<p>Kageyama says nothing at first, eyes still pinched and chin pressed to his chest. “...yes.” He grinds out. </p>
<p>“You saw me, then...and-and y-you’ve been avoiding me! I didn’t mean to, Kageyama, I just - !” </p>
<p>“What are you talking about?! You didn’t do anything wrong, you just...I...!” Kageyama doesn’t  know what he wants to say, and Hinata is confusing him, which makes him both angry and full of shame in the same choked-out breath. He slams his closed fist against the wall. He looks at Hinata with eyes full of heat and misery, and his breath comes in erratic puffs. He must look insane. </p>
<p>“I didn’t?” He squeaks. </p>
<p>“Why would you think that?!” </p>
<p>“I-I, well...” He shuffles awkwardly on the bed, and looks down at his hands where they’re twisted up in his lap. Finally, it occurs to Hinata to ask, “um, why do you have that? On your phone?” </p>
<p>Kageyama looks at his phone, then at Hinata. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He repeats this at least twice more. “I...it was the only way...I could see you like that.” There it is, into the air. They’re officially having this conversation, under the absolute worst circumstances. Kageyama couldn’t have imagined it happening like this in even his worst nightmare. He prays for sudden death, a strike of lightning or untimely heart attack, anything to let him escape this adventitious confrontation. Hinata gapes at him. Kageyama closes his eyes, having never felt such shame and embarrassment in his entire life. Hinata’s voice comes, breathless and stunned. “You want to see me like...that?”</p>
<p>Now, more than ever, Kageyama knows there was no room for falsehoods or skirting the truth. He’s been exposed, and no matter what became of their relationship or what Hinata decided to do, he owes him an honest answer. He looks him square in the eye, and says “yes, I do.” </p>
<p>“Oh.” Hinata whispers. The eye contact becomes too much, too overwhelming, and Hinata pulls his knees to his chest and buries his face in them. His cheeks are on fire and his heart is pounding. Kageyama saw him, like that, and he...liked it. He went so far as to record it, and watch it all over again. It was a massive invasion of his privacy, but that was the furthest thing from Hinata’s scrambled mind. If anything, it’s almost like the score has been settled somewhat. Kageyama clearly didn’t know it, but Hinata has been getting off to footage of him for months. </p>
<p>Kageyama clears his throat. “Hinata, I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough, and there’s nothing I can say that will make this okay. I understand if you never want to see me again, but I - ”</p>
<p>“It’s not the only way.” Hinata mumbles, face still snug in his knees. Kageyama blinks. “What? I can’t hear - ”</p>
<p>“I said...” Hinata lifts his head, his expression wobbly but determined. “It’s not the only way! Ah, you’re such an idiot! You didn’t even - do you know who I think about when I...I do that stuff?! When I...” He wrings his hands together and huffs a nervous breath. “When I touch myself like that, I...you’re the one I think of! I’ve been in love with you for...forever, I guess! There! I said it! I love you, and I want you to touch me, and...do that stuff! To me...” He trails off awkwardly. It’s as eloquent a confession as Hinata can give, he just never expected to give one under these circumstances; those being, habitually masturbating to his best friend, getting caught by said best friend who then recorded said masturbation and proceeded to watch said recording and masturbate to it in secret, and said secret coming to light via a bluetooth pairing mishap. </p>
<p>Now that he really thought about it, what the fuck is even going on? </p>
<p>Kageyama stares at him, and continues to stare until Hinata feels like a specimen under a microscope. Then, he explodes. “Are you shitting me?! Hinata, you absolute fucking moron!” He chucks his phone to the floor and stalks the length of the room, from the doorway to where Hinata cowers on the bed. Hinata hasn’t felt this scared of Kageyama since nailing him in the back of the head with the ball during their first practice match against Aoba Johsai. Kageyama grabs a fistful of his shirt and yanks him onto his shins. "Gah, Kage-what-!" Hinata clings to Kageyama's forearm, as it was his only means of support. Kageyama put their faces close together, closer than Hinata could ever remember being. He can feel his breath rolling in hot, sharp bursts across his face. His eyes are cut by harsh lines and painfully blue, stormy, Hinata fears death by drowning in their maelstrom. "Are you telling me..." He hisses. "...all this time, I could have had you? We could have been together?" </p>
<p>“I...I guess?” He squawks. </p>
<p>Kageyama snarls and gives him a reprimanding shake. “Do you know how fucking terrible this past week has been, since I saw you like...like that? How hard it’s been to control myself around you? And before that, it’s always been hard! I’ve wanted you for so long, Hinata, you fucking idiot!” </p>
<p>Hinata scowls, suddenly irritated. It sounds an awful lot like Kageyama is trying to skate around the blame and shovel it all onto his shoulders, and his alone. “I’m not the only idiot here, idiot! You’re just as stupid! You’ve always been an emotionally constipated jackass, so how was I supposed to tell that you-you felt anything like that, huh?! I’m not a mind reader! You should have said something!” </p>
<p>“You should have said something!” Kageyama shoots back, shaking him again. Hinata puffs his cheeks out, brows drawn to a hard vee. He’s angry, frustrated, and extremely turned on. Arguing with Kageyama has always been easy, almost effortless, and their pride can keep them on it for hours. He doesn’t want to argue, he wants to unleash all of his pent-up sexual grievances onto their source, who’s just admitted to sharing similar grievances. Hinata has never kissed another person before, not like this, but those who wish to climb the ladder must start on the bottom rung. Or whatever Takeda-sensei said that time. All passion and fury, no technique, he slams their mouths together. It’s a bruising kiss, and one Kageyama immediately participates in and takes control of. The room is in a tailspin, and he’s suddenly on his back with Kageyama bearing down on him from all sides. </p>
<p>Kageyama’s kiss is ferocious, angry, impassioned, and utterly soul-stealing. He slides their lips together until they’re swollen, glossy, and disparaged to part. He fills Hinata’s mouth with his tongue, swiping at his molars and tasting his soft palate, and leaves indentations of his teeth on Hinata’s lower lip. It’s all Hinata can do to catch half a frantic breath in between. Kageyama slots himself in the space between Hinata’s legs, and pushes down and forward until Hinata is nearly folded in half at the waist. They’re both chronically hard, and the friction created between their lower bodies is enough to drive one to delirium. Feeling spiteful, Kageyama grinds himself against Hinata in slow, broad circles. Hinata tosses his head with a closed-mouth scream. He braces one palm against Kageyama’s chest, the other gripping bruises into his upper arm. “K-Kageyam-ah!” </p>
<p>“Don’t stifle yourself, let me hear it.” Kageyama snarls. He’s spent too long imagining what Hinata sounded like, loud and unrestrained, to be denied those noises now. He will hear it all, every pitch and cadence as he cries, screams, and bega until his voice is broken and cracked apart. He brings his mouth to rest at the soft, dewy cleft where neck meets shoulder, and bites down until the skin purples. Hinata gasps high in his throat. “Ah, that-ahn! Kage-ya-maaa, that hurts, you bastard!” </p>
<p>“I’ve waited so long, I want to hear you, I want to hear how you sound when I bite you, when I fuck you.” He breathes. Hinata squirms, feeling heat puddle in his lower belly and electricity crackle along his nerve-endings. Kageyama’s heady declaration has a breathless, raspy moan ripped from him. “O-okay, I won’t...do that anymore.” He whimpers, his eyes squeezed shut. He’s embarrassed, and so turned on that it actually hurts. Kageyama’s weight suddenly vanishes, leaving him cold and exposed. Hinata is forced to pry his eyes apart, and finds him halfway across the room. Hinata fears he’s about to leave, having changed his mind, but he only flips the light switch and closes the door. They’re cast in the dim, aurelian light from his bedside lamp, and the air takes an unmistakable change. </p>
<p>Kageyama looks like a predator in his approach; purposeful, even steps that eat up the distance between them. He draws his shirt over his chest, cut and hard from years of sport, and lets the thin cotton fall from his arms and slip over his head. Hinata has seen him shirtless many, many times before, and he never tires of the sight. It always feels like he’s been slugged in the gut; he has to turn away and catch his breath, and think somber, unpleasant thoughts to keep from getting hard. This time, he’s allowed to stare, like a starstruck middle-school girl. His mouth dries up, and he squeezes his legs together. God, Kageyama is hot.</p>
<p>When he reaches the bedside, he drops his sweats to his ankles and steps out of them. Hinata gapes, taken aback by the lack of warning. He’s suddenly eye-level with Kageyama’s cock, and it’s...intimidating, is the first word that comes to mind. It’s double, no, possibly triple the size of the toy he’s been using. Holy shit, there is no way, absolutely not. “That is not going to fit!” He squawks, pointing dramatically at the phallus as though it’s committed some dastardly crime. Kageyama rolls his eyes, and huffs. He crosses his arms over his chest, and his aura turns faintly smug. He is well-endowed, but by no means big enough to shatter a pelvis or puncture a uterine wall. “Don’t be so dramatic, I’m not that big. You only think so because you’ve been masturbating with a micro-toy!” </p>
<p>Hinata gasps, offended. “A micro - ! It is not! It’s none of your business anyway!”</p>
<p>Kageyama grins, all teeth and intention. He bends at the waist, trapping Hinata with his arms and crowding their faces together. “Oh, but it is. I’m the only one who should be filling you up, fucking you, making you cum until you can’t see straight or remember your own name, not that useless piece of silicone.” As he whispers his filthy promises, his hands snake their way under the loose fit of Hinata’s shirt, smoothing over the flat planes of his stomach and climbing the knobs of his spine. Hinata allows Kageyama to pull his shirt over his head, embarrassed by it nonetheless, like he’s a child incapable of undressing himself. He gets the feeling Kageyama wants to be the one to do it. It becomes apparent, once his own chest is exposed to the air, that his flush spreads like ivy on a garden wall, from the apple of his cheeks to his breastbone.  Kageyama gathers him in his arms, and presses slow, open-mouthed kisses down the tilt of his jaw and neck. Hinata slides his hands into his slick cap of jet hair, gripping at the strands close to the scalp. This is...good. Really good. </p>
<p>Hinata’s imagination paled in comparison to the real thing; they haven’t even done anything explicitly sexual, other than kiss and dry hump like clumsy, desperate highschoolers, but he’s never felt this way before. He’s overly sensitive, his skin burns and jumps where Kageyama touches him, and anticipation is a living, breathing presence filling him up and pushing at his seams. Kageyama tucks his fingers into the waistband of his shorts, and hikes them over the mounds of his ass and down past his thighs. Hinata covers his face with both hands, because now they’re both naked and Kageyama is looking at him and -- “I’ve seen it before, you know.” Kageyama huffs, his voice laughing, and pulls Hinata’s hands from the cage keeping his expression concealed. Hinata glares at him. “That does not count.” </p>
<p>Kageyama nods in agreement. His eyes shine bright and serious, and look almost black in the shade of the room. “You’re right. Can I touch you?” </p>
<p>Hinata blinks, confused, because they’ve been touching all this time, so why - ? Oh. He meant, like that. He bites his lip, then looks away with a petulant sound. “I mean, duh.” </p>
<p>Kageyama needs no further command. He’s wanted this for so long, the past week having been especially brutal, and his hands are actually shaking as he slides them along the creamy, white insides of Hinata’s thighs. As far as the treasure between his legs, Kageyama hasn’t gotten a good look at it during his distasteful voyeurism, as Hinata had his back to the door and the room had been fairly dark. Now, his vision is broad and full with all Hinata has to offer him. He’s beautiful, and the sight of him like this has Kageyama’s mouth puddling. He isn’t as big as Kageyama, in either length or width, but his cock is perfectly shaped and colored. It stands tall and proud against his lower stomach, sprouting like a coral pine from his neatly trimmed, astonishingly orange mons pubis, with no unsightly curvature or blemishes. Kageyama presses his lips against the base of it, and it’s soft and warm and clean; he can smell vague notes of the same body wash he’s been using since high school, with the natural scent of his skin a layer beneath. Hinata jumps at the contact, his voice an octave higher as it left him.</p>
<p>His hands tighten in Kageyama’s hair. “A-ah! You d-don’t have to...do that...y-you know...” He trails weakly. Kageyama’s eyes are daggers shooting through him, as they snap up to meet his own. “I do what I want, and this is what I want to do.” He says in a low, dark voice. Hinata inhales sharp enough to make his throat itch, and tries squeezing his legs closed out of sheer habit, but Kageyama keeps them pried with firm hands on the soft meat of his inner thighs. With no warning or prompting, he continues his exploration of Hinata’s most intimate places. He presses breathy, wet kisses from base to tip, laving his tongue in flat strokes against the hard flesh as he ascends. Hinata has gradually curled himself into a ball around him, shivering and jerking at the very new, very incredible sensation of someone’s mouth on him. He gasps and whines into the unruly mess he’s created of Kageyama’s hair, grinding his fingertips into his scalp. Fuck, they could have been doing this all along? How dense is he? </p>
<p>Kageyama pops the head of his cock, spongy and flared at the edges, into his mouth like it were a particularly sweet treat. Hinata experiences an uncontrollable, full-body spasm that has his back bowing and his head thrown about like a sheet in wind. Kageyama swirls his tongue around its circumference, committing the texture and taste of him to memory for later rediscovery. Hinata’s reactions are extreme, as they are in everything he does, and it’s feeding the fires in his gut and blood. The feel of his hands digging through his hair and gouging his scalp, of his small body tightening around him like a hungry boa. He can feel the muscles in his stomach and legs jumping and flexing, and it thrills him through his core to know he is the cause of it all. He wants to make Hinata feel this way all the time, every day and night. After another minute or two of exploring the length of him from top to bottom and back again, he shuffles Hinata further back onto the bed. </p>
<p>Hinata props himself on his elbows and looks at Kageyama with eyes full of anticipation and nerves. Kageyama grabs him by his left inner forearm and the back of his left thigh. Before Hinata can question the odd grapple, Kageyama flips him onto his stomach, roughly and without warning. Hinata squawks, before his face and any subsequent noises to escape it are smothered in the bedspread. Kageyama grabs his hips and yokes him onto his knees. It’s a position Hinata is intimately familiar with, as it’s his preferred position for - well, yeah. Even in his own head, he’s too embarrassed to say it. Kageyama leaves him no room for it now, however. Hinata jerks hard enough to pull a muscle or two, as Kageyama's mouth finds his opening, tight and twitching in anticipation. His jaw works feverishly, as he grinds his mouth against Hinata, tongue, teeth, and everything between, like he'll be the last thing Kageyama will ever taste. He maps out the soft, unyielding muscle with his tongue, and scrapes his teeth lightly against it. Then, he alternates between a vicious cycle of sucking bruises into his rim and driving his tongue through that elastic ring, essentially fucking Hinata open with his mouth. Hinata is loud; his breathing, his high-pitched moans, his screams, even his body language, it’s all so loud and Kageyama is getting high on it. </p>
<p>The sensation is too much, he’s overstimulated, and claws at the mattress in an attempt to scoot away. He should have known, Kageyama would never allow it. He keeps him anchored in place with a strong grip on both of his outer thighs, his mouth still a force at work. When a break does finally come, it lasts only as long as it takes Kageyama to swing an arm under the bed and fish out Hinata’s unmentionables. He retrieves the lube from its velvet pouch and pops the lid. Hinata flinches at the familiar sound. He looks at Kageyama, horrified. “You bastard! How did you - ?” </p>
<p>He jerks violently as Kageyama slips two fingers into him, alongside his probing tongue. He opens him up with dexterity and fervor, adding a third and fourth, until Hinata is a sobbing, broken heap in the sheets. Curling, twisting, stretching, deeper and deeper, until that little bundle is discovered and manipulated by calloused tips. Hinata shrieks and tosses his head back. “T-Tobi-oohh!” He cries. </p>
<p>Kageyama stops, chokes, his given name from Hinata’s mouth shooting through him like an electric arrow. It’s the very first time he’s ever heard his name like that, and the first time Hinata has said it at all. He’s rocked by an excited, full-body shiver. He sits up on his knees, but keeps his fingers firmly seated inside the body beneath him. “Say it again.” He demands, the words nearly lost in the gravel of his voice.  </p>
<p>Hinata makes a confused, warbled sound. “My name, say it again.” Kageyama snarls, curling his fingers inside that heat, pressing on those nerves, utterly unrepentant. Hinata shrieks, head tossed back and body wracked with shivers. “To-To-bi-o...” He breathes it like a ragged prayer. Kageyama lets his own head fall back, his mouth open and dry from the heavy air cycling through it. He works his fingers, shaped like a spearhead, in and out of Hinata’s shaking, small body with precision and care. His name has never sounded so good, and he might forbid Hinata from calling him anything else ever again. “Fuck, fuck.” He hisses, and looks down at where he’s buried knuckle-deep. He can’t wait, Hinata’s body is more than ready. He slides his hand free from the grips of that silken channel, snarling at the sight of Hinata’s hole loose and flushed. He lines himself up with it, and slides home with minimal resistance. He’s done a good job of preparing him, and was pleased to see minimal pain or discomfort in Hinata’s body language. Watching himself disappear into that heat, little by little, has Kageyama feeling delirious. Hinata whines at the stretch, the burn, the feeling of being utterly stuffed. Kageyama is leagues bigger than his toy, and Hinata is pointedly aware of every new inch. Once his ass is firmly seated in the vee of Kageyama’s groin, he flexes his hips experimentally. </p>
<p>The head of his cock rubs against his prostate, and Hinata jumps and chokes. Kageyama sinks strong fingers into the meat of his hips, holding himself back from fucking into Hinata like a dog in heat. “Holy...fuck...” He grits his teeth. Hinata squirms below him, his hips twitching and his back spasmodic. “M-move, please! I-I need it, T-Tobio, please!” He begs, tears wetting his lashes. Kageyama is tempted to demand more from him, more pleads and cries to be ruthlessly fucked into putty. He isn’t so cruel, however. He eases himself free of that slick channel, until just the head of his length catches at the rim, and promptly slams back in. Hinata screams, his body violently thrown forward. He nearly bashes his face against the headboard. He scrambles for purchase against the brutal pace set against him, Kageyama an unrelenting force at his back. The speed and force of it has his head spinning, his breath short and choppy, and his heart hammering bruises. It’s like nothing he’s felt before. His own masturbation is a shadow, a ghost, a pallid memory in comparison. Kageyama is strong, fit, and so much bigger than him. He leans over and plants hot, open-mouthed kisses down his spine and the wings of his shoulders, hips keeping their rhythm. “I can finally pay it all back...” He breathed the words into Hinata’s skin. “I’m going to fuck you like you deserve, Shoyo. I want your body to remember this.” </p>
<p>He slides his hands around Hinata’s pale, veined throat and squeezes, just hard enough to put stars behind his eyes as he devastates him with hard, pointed thrusts. Hinata gasps, desperate for a full breath. He’s lightheaded. Kageyama’s promise burns into his skin like a lit cigarette, his cock a firing piston that keeps him full and desperate. Hinata thinks, almost embarrassed, that he’s going to cum any second now. “I-I’m going to - !” He gasps. Kageyama releases his neck, and instead creates a hot, tight vice around the base of his weeping length. “No, you’re not.” The words sound smug and smiling as he says them into Hinata’s ear. “Not yet.” </p>
<p>Kageyama stops fucking him altogether, and the loss of friction is devastating. Hinata can’t help the broken sob that escapes him. Kageyama keeps him in place with a firm palm in the center of his back, pressing his chest to the mattress. He reaches under the bed a second time, unbeknownst to Hinata, and retrieves the little toy. He eyes it, turns it over in his hand, then looks to where Hinata is stretched around him. He grins, a vicious flash of white teeth in the shade of the room, and presses the tip of the toy against Hinata’s entrance. Hinata jumps. “What is that?!” He squeaks. </p>
<p>“You don’t recognize it?” He’s grinning fully now, and rubs the head of the toy against Hinata’s rim, applying pressure. Hinata does. He jerks violently, and tries to wrench himself away from the intrusion. Kageyama is out of his mind if he thinks - ! Kageyama releases him in lieu of snatching a fist full of his hair. Hinata chokes out a pained, breathless sound. “I just want...a side by side comparison.” Kageyama continues to apply pressure, holding Hinata in a dramatic arch as he does so. “N-no, it won’t - Kagey - !” </p>
<p>“It will.” </p>
<p>After a moment, the head of it slips in next to his own turgid need, and Hinata shrieks. His body is taut and shaking where Kageyama holds it in place, as the small toy is pushed into him fully, stretching him past what he thought himself capable of. It burns, but the head of Kageyama’s own cock is still nestled against that precious bundle buried so deeply. Hinata thinks he might have tried to say something, but no sounds other than half cries and aborted gasps leave his trembling, open mouth. In that moment, Kageyama’s hunger, his lust, his need for more are all bottomless and fathomless. Hinata is expressive and bright in everything he does, and watching his visceral reactions to their coupling has his blood singing and head spinning like a top. “Is it too much? I can...” He starts to slide out, letting Hinata think he plans to pull out completely, then snaps his hips forward. It’s impossibly tight between the silicone and Hinata’s inner walls, and Kageyama struggles for traction. His strokes aren’t as smooth, but it’s just as much to do with his own orgasm drawing nearer and nearer. </p>
<p>Hinata openly sobs, trembling and twisting in the sheets like summer’s last leaf in an autumnal gust. It’s too much, too good, he can’t take any more than this. Kageyama is pushing his limits to their breaking point and beyond, wringing pleasure from him that he never dreamed a human body could experience. Finally, taking mercy on him, Kageyama brings a hand between his legs and strokes him to the even beat of his hips. Distantly, Hinata thinks not even landing a perfect quick could feel this good. Kageyama pulls him onto his knees, quivering back to broad chest, their bodies still in motion. His hand still works at him, talented fingers a slippery vice, and his other arm comes to wrap around Hinata’s throat. He applies just enough pressure to his airway to keep a full breath at bay, and Hinata digs blunt nails into his forearm and bicep. His choked-off noises have Kageyama feeling villainous and animal-like. “Hi - na - ta...” He sounds possessed even to his own ears, and Hinata whines like a wounded critter. </p>
<p>“Cum for me, while I fill you up.” He commands. Not but five seconds go by, and they’re coming apart together. Hinata repaints his sheets white, having just changed them less than two hours ago. His orgasm hits so hard, he feels concussed. Kageyama is shaking behind him, his arm tightens around Hinata’s throat to the point of leaving a necklace of bruises there. He’s been imagining what this would feel like for weeks, no, months. Hell, years? His expectations are shattered, his fantasies rendered moot. The real, flesh and blood Hinata unraveling in his arms, seated on his cock and leaking out around him, so desperate and so beautiful, it blows him away and awakens dark and terrible things inside him. Does something like “enough” even exist anymore? Could there ever be enough of this? Of Hinata? No, never, Kageyama thinks from his hindbrain. As they come down from the powerful high of their first time, Kageyama pulls free and arranges Hinata on his stomach, more gentle than he’s been through the whole of this affair. </p>
<p>Hinata’s eyes are glassy in the lamp light, barely visible beneath limp, damp splashes of hair. His breathing is hard, and his body still shakes in the aftermath. Kageyama lays between his splayed legs, and spreads his ass apart. Hinata whimpers, fearful of further stimulation. He admires his handiwork with a vicious sort of pride. The toy is barely visible, having almost completely disappeared inside him. Kageyama massages soothing circles into the meat of his ass and lower back. “Push it out, Shoyo.” He says roughly.</p>
<p>Hinata sobs and shakes his head, as the mere thought causes him such embarrassment. “Nngh, n-no, I don’t want t-to.” </p>
<p>Kageyama delivers a sharp, sudden smack to the sloping side of his left cheek, and Hinata shrieks. “I’m not asking.” He says, and strikes him again. The skin there reddens beautifically, and Kageyama vaguely wonders what Hinata’s done to him. What type of endlessly hungry beast has he become? Hinata cries weakly, and begs him to stop. He does, knowing Hinata is at his threshold, and any further stimulation would be more cruel than not. “We can’t leave it in, you need to push it out.” He says, softer, kinder.</p>
<p>He’s right, Hinata knows. He’s mortified, but still so turned on that it physically hurts. The idea of Kageyama watching with rapt attention as he forcibly expels a dildo and cum from his body makes him want to hide his head in the blankets and suffocate there. Shockingly, he can feel his cock struggling to get hard again where it lay trapped between his stomach and the bed. Whimpering, humiliated and aroused, he bears down against the toy. It’s forced past his rim, inch after inch, and Kageyama can’t look away. The world could be ending in flames and brimstone right out their window, and he’d be nonethewiser. The little dildo is shiny and slick as it’s fully ejected, and cum leaks from him in gossamer rivlets, past his perineum and into the crevices of his inner thighs. Kageyama curses hotly, feeling himself harden again at the sight of it. “Good.” He breathes. “Good job, you did so good.”</p>
<p>Unable, or unwilling, to stop himself, he ducks his head forward and shoves his tongue into Hinata’s lax, pink opening. He tastes the mixing of their essence, and groans. Hinata jumps and tries to pull away, but he feels like jelly. The night continues much like that, until they’re too spent to move and their blood refuses to drain south. They lay curled into each other, basking in that epic release of a year’s worth of unchecked hormones and tension. “I love you.” Hinata says again, halfway caught between a dream. Kageyama looks at him, or at least the top of his head where it’s pillowed against his chest. He smiles a big dopey thing, feeling more kingly and on top of the world than ever before. His spiker, his best friend, and finally, his lover. Hinata is asleep by the time Kageyama says “I love you too, idiot.”</p>
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